Better
by Sebe
Summary: Post 5x14 Bloody Valentine with a bit of speculation on 5x15. Sam’s almost through the withdrawals and Dean’s still with him. Sam saw something, but Dean’s so tired…


Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Oh, the things I would do to them…

Synopsis: Post 5x14 (Bloody Valentine) with a bit of speculation on 5x15. Sam's almost through the withdrawals and Dean's still with him. Sam saw something, but Dean's so tired…

Author's Notes: We all know Sam's powers aren't only fueled by demon blood right? They're his. And those premonitions of his can't have just gone away…

**Better**

Dean stumbles in from the porch blearily like he'd been drinking, which he hadn't. Not really, not for him anyway. He's just tired. So goddamn tired.

Bobby's in front of him, wheeling around to the kitchen table, disassembled gun on the surface and greasy rags on his lap. He settles into cleaning.

"How's he doing?"

"Been quiet. Just mumblin' in his sleep." He cuts his eyes over at Dean who straightens momentarily at the news.

"You sure he's-"

"He's asleep Dean. Not hallucinatin'. I checked."

Dean wants to ask how he checked, but the weariness overtakes him again.

"I'm gonna go sit with him."

Bobby nods like he approves and then throws in, "You get yourself some sleep too, boy!"

Dean smirks at the burst of affection and ambles down the hall to Sam's room.

Four days after Famine and Sam was among the living again…mostly. He was above ground at least and not chained to anything. All that remained of the withdrawals were the tremors that were slowly tapering off and a less-than-lucid mentality. That and just how damned drained his little brother was. Sam was pale and shaky and even though Dean had shoved something like food down his throat a few times, his eyes were still dark and his cheeks a bit sunken.

Sam looked how Dean felt. The green-eyed man was sure there was some poetry or literary symmetry or some shit in that, but he didn't care to think of it.

Dean saw Sam on the bed and Cas was nowhere in sight. The angel must have opted for a break in his vigil over Sam and, by extent, Dean. He felt relieved. He appreciated how Cas had stayed with him and Sam lately, especially through the Panic Room Part Two, but he didn't think he could handle having to keep up any form of appearances tonight. No, tonight was just emotionally eviscerated Dean and his ex-blood junkie, guilt-ridden, apocalypse bringing little brother.

"De?"

He smiled despite himself. It was how Sam would call him when they were little.

"Just me Sammy."

He walked closer to the bed. Sam lay on his side, head lying on one stretched out arm, the other was curled up against him. He barely opened his eyes for a moment and seemed to accept that it was his big brother.

Dean settled down next to the bed so Sam could see him better. Just so if Sam wanted to open his eyes and needed to see Dean he could, of course. Not that Dean maybe felt like he needed to see his brother awake, at least half-sane and with him. No, not that at all. Just the first thing.

But Sam did open his eyes again, like he knew. And Dean turned his lips up as much as he could without it being a lie.

"Heya Sammy."

Slitted hazel blinked a couple times to focus and Sam took a breath before curling his lips into a mirror of Dean's weary smile.

"Hey."

And they were good for a while. They sat in comfortable silence, Sam fading in and out of consciousness and awareness both. Finally Dean started to feel sleep pull at him as well.

"Get some sleep Sammy, I'm gonna." He settled back, trying to get situated a bit more. He didn't feel the need to find a bed. He was good here. "Apocalypse'll still be there for us in the morning".

"Did you see her?"

Crap.

"See who Sam?"

"Short brown hair and a yellow dress…she was so nice to me."

The apparent lingering hallucinations didn't bother Dean as much as the seeming amazement in his brother's voice that someone had shown him kindness. It made something in his chest that Famine had said wasn't there ache.

"Didn't see anybody Sammy."

Sam's eye clear for a moment and he angles his head up to look at Dean.

"You didn't see?" But just as quick it's over and he's plopping that mop of hair back down onto his arms exhaustedly. "Maybe she hasn't been here yet."

Dean puts his hand on his brother's head, sighing. "Yea, maybe."

"She will be though. She will be here." Sam's burrowed down now, content with Dean near him and drifting off again. "Not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing though…don't think Bobby knows either." Sam frowns, half unconscious. "Hope he'll be okay…"

Dean settles down, back against the wall, hand now wrapped around Sam's wrist where it's liable to stay while they sleep.

"Bobby'll be fine Sam." He's not sure if the words get through or not, but he's tired and it's just the thing to say. Dean's own eyes are heavy as he turns them onto Sam. His little brother's already asleep again, soft puffs of breath escape slightly parted lips. Dean's eyes slide closed in the closest thing either brother has to contentment.

He wants to say, 'everything will be better in the morning Sammy', but all that comes out is,

"I'll be here in the morning Sammy."

And maybe that's the same thing.


End file.
